What??? You Mean I Can't Spank Every Girl I See?

I have been punished for sexual assault. Twice. And, boy, am I thankful for that.

First, as a six-year-old, I had quite the fun-loving relationship with everyone, my gym teacher included. In one particularly rambunctious moment, I decided to *potch *her tuchus. That's how my Yiddish-speaking grandmother referred to gently "spanking" someone's "butt," which, in my household, was purely playful and affectionate.

Not so in gym class, although I didn't realize it at the time. So, I was shocked when I was quickly escorted to the principal's office. Only when I was forced, between sobs, to call my mom and report what I'd done did I fully appreciate that it's not OK to slap your teacher's ass.

Take this early photo of me as a warning: If he wears a denim shirt and a mushroom cut, run.

Second, in fifth grade, Jeanie Banks and I were engaging in some 10-year-old flirting on the bus when I thought it would be a good idea to also potch her tuchus (my early and continued fixation with *tuchuses *(tuchi?) is another post entirely). I understood then that, as a general practice, spanking isn't cool, but considering Jeanie's flirtatious demeanor, it seemed to me like she'd be into it.

Nope. Jeanie was apparently traumatized, and I was called into the principal's office the next day—and several days after that—because I was so embarrassed that I refused to admit my guilt. When everyone—including me—grew impatient with the "deny till you die" strategy endorsed by my friends, I finally confessed. I was summarily punished, and deservedly so.

I was always a good kid and never got in trouble. So in these situations, I knew I'd really messed up. I apologized to Jeanie then but only recently realized that I owe her an enormous thanks. And a thanks to my gym teacher. And principal. And parents.

They could have dismissed what I did as "boys being boys," but they didn't. They set boundaries. Taught respect. Instilled values. Without inhibiting or shaming my sexuality itself, I'm thankful to the adults in my life and to my peers for holding me accountable for my actions at an early age. I'm glad I had people help me distinguish from right and wrong, so when I reached adolescence and adulthood, I could do it myself.

Now, I still potch the occasional tuchus, but only with permission.

Did you or the boys in your life experience anything like this growing up? How do you think we should discipline young boys on treating people with respect?